


Mace Windu’s Guide to Accidental Friendship

by Biggest_Oof



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Mace Windu is So Done, Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars), and it changes literally everything, in which anakin and mace learn to get along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biggest_Oof/pseuds/Biggest_Oof
Summary: There are very few things that Mace Windu hates. Hate is a Sith emotion, so he tries not to feel it. Annoyance, irritation, disappointment, bone crushing exhaustion at the stupidity of the Senate, sure, they’re common in Mace’s arsenal of limited sentiments. But hate, no, that’s reserved for almost nobody.Mace Windu hates Anakin Skywalker.Or: Mace hates Anakin, until a series of events causes him to shift perspective.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Mace Windu, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 24
Kudos: 408
Collections: Guerra_das_Estrelas





	Mace Windu’s Guide to Accidental Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> tw: slavery, minor blood, minor mention of grooming

There are very few things that Mace Windu hates. Hate is a Sith emotion, so he tries not to feel it. Annoyance, irritation, disappointment, bone crushing exhaustion at the stupidity of the Senate, sure, they’re common in Mace’s arsenal of limited sentiments. But hate, no, that’s reserved for almost nobody.

Mace Windu hates Anakin Skywalker. 

Again, hate is a strong word. Mace prefers to think of his attitude towards the Knight as extreme and strong annoyance. He may be in denial about the entire thing. Skywalker just rubs him in the wrong way.

It’s been like this since the kid first came to the temple. Qui-Gon Jinn, smug asshole that he was, paraded this small child in front of the Council, claiming that this was The Chosen One. And okay, maybe the claim held some merit when the blood tests came through, showing a midichlorian of at least 20,000. But still, it proved almost nothing.

Of course, after Skywalker arrived and the Council heard Qui-Gon out, everything went to shambles faster than you could say Sith Lord. Which, oh, did Mace mention that one had popped up during the shitshow? The Naboo Crisis was already a tough spot to be in, and then Darth Maul shows up and kills one of the Order’s finest? Not a great day for Mace, let’s be clear.

Anyways, the battle ends with one very traumatized Padawan, a feral child who took out an entire army like it was nothing, and a 14 year old Queen with more grace and dignity than some senators have in their 70’s. Oh, and this new guy named Palpatine, who’s apparently the new Chancellor even though Mace wouldn’t touch him with a 10 foot lightsaber. They let Skywalker into the Order after a tense vote, and Obi-Wan is knighted and vows to train the gremlin.

Mace had a migraine the size of a bantha that entire week. 

And maybe it wasn’t fair to judge a kid so early on, but Mace is a judgmental person. He sensed the fear, the anger, and the darkness in Skywalker from the moment he came into contact with the kid. The other members did too, hence the vote.

And maybe it wasn’t fair to judge a kid who had been a slave on Tatooine all his life, but Mace was too busy with the migraine to really ponder that fact when he should’ve. As far as he was concerned, any sympathy towards Skywalker on that front evaporated as soon as the slave chip was removed.

(Later on in life, Mace will regret this. He doesn’t now though, and that’s all that matters.)

Life goes on. They burn Qui-Gon’s body, mourn for him. Obi-Wan Kenobi can sometimes be seen standing out in the gardens, tear tracks dried down his face, but other than that, it’s like nothing ever happened.

Mace knows better though. The Council feels how great changes have been set in motion. 

His dislike of Skywalker only grew as the kid did. The little gremlin was a prodigy, outpacing his fellow Padawans even with a late start, to the amazement of everyone around him. His control on the Force was unparalleled for such a small child, and his abilities were quite impressive.

But Skywalker was arrogant. He hated meditation, and the Padawan haircut, and pretty much all of the Jedi traditions. With the Council, he was rude, and with his Master he backtalked and snarked. Mace didn’t care for any of this, but the cherry on the proverbial top came with the kids' unshakeable conviction that he was The Chosen One.

Try as Mace might, but it seemed that these feelings he harbored towards Skywalker couldn’t be released to the Force. In fact, each year, they appeared to only grow. Skywalker continued to carry the haughty attitude, and Mace continued to growl under his breath when forced to collaborate with the kid.

It only got worse once Master Kenobi was offered a seat on the Council. Mace likes Kenobi, almost everyone does, and it was nice to have a baby face on the council. Obi-Wan is, for all intents and purposes, a perfect Jedi.

Maybe that’s why it irked Mace to no end to see him be so lenient with Skywalker. Kenobi seemed to bend to almost every whim of his reckless Padawan, a characteristic so unlike the Master that it gave Mace whiplash just to see it. When the Council prodded, they were met with a serene smile, a polite version of ‘kriff off’, and a reminder that Obi-Wan had reasons that even they weren’t privy to.

So, Mace continued to tear nonexistent hair out of his head, Skywalker continued to be a spoiled brat, and it seemed like some form of order had been achieved.

That was until the disaster trio known as Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padme Amidala managed to trigger a galactic war. Oh, and Yan Dooku, who’s apparently a Sith Lord now, cut off Skywalker’s hand and gravely injured Kenobi. Just kriffing great. The way Yoda’s ears drooped for days after his duel with Dooku haunted Mace’s nightmares in the days to come.

The Clone Wars come in full force, and every day another casualty report comes in. Their legions of clones and Jedi are decimated by the handful, Seperatist forces blurring the lines of what a Jedi is until Mace can’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore.

They are peacekeepers on the frontline of a war they helped create. The Senate is in shambles, that gas fuel leak named Palpatine worming himself into new emergency powers with each passing month, and the Jedi have been stretched thinner than ever.

The only ones who seem to be successful is The Team. Obi-Wan and Skywalker lead their forces with grit teeth and canines bared, and the tactics deployed, while brutal, give them results, and fast. Mace could even put his grudge against Skywalker aside if it were not for one crucial fact:

Skywalker doesn’t take this war seriously. He jokes about it, ranks kills with his new Padawan, bumps shoulders with his battered Captain, a smile on his lips. Mace doesn’t the last time he even broke a smirk, and Skywalker strides about like a pompous peacock, equipped with a grin and a reckless battle strategy.

Mace “Resting Bitch Face” Windu does not, in fact, find this coping strategy at all productive or useful. He finds that most of his headaches involve Skywalker’s dad jokes.

The only time Skywalker is remotely solemn is when he’s apologizing to Council. Yeah, Mace might hate him.

But he and Skywalker seem to have an unspoken agreement. Don’t get in the way of my battles, and I won’t get in the way of yours. When paired up, rare as it is, Skywalker lets him take lead, though he drags his feet the entire time. They both hate each other, and that’s fine.

That is until, in typical Skywalker fashion, the General proves him wrong.

-

They’re stationed on some backwater Outer Rim planet, caked in mud and low on rations when they stumble across a Seperatist mining hub. Why they chose to mine here, where everything is wet and swampy, Mace has no idea, but at least they’ve found their target. 

They sweep in with a team of clones, Skywalker taking half the building while he takes the other. Droids come in swarms, taking out three troopers while the rest scramble to blast the clankers. Mace flows through the motions, taking out as many as he can.

It’s exhausting. After they’ve cleared their half, they rendezvous with Skywalker, who looks just as beaten down, but still holding that characteristic smirk. They trudge through the hub, searching for any signs of life.

It’s then that they happen upon two heavy durasteel doors. Mace and Skywalker carve a hole in the center, filing through it with their men, hackles raised. Inside is a conveyor procession, droid parts and munitions scattered about on different belts, moving slowly towards completion.

There’s people in the room. Lots of them, about 100 if Mace had to guess. It’s mostly Twi’leks and Humans, all different ages and sizes. All of them are attached to chains. They turn to stare at their group, eyes gaunt and faces hollow.

Mace doesn’t know what to do. He stands, watches as they turn and continue to work. Alright, refugees, what’s the protocol for this. He has to inform them of the situation. He doesn’t think these people are here voluntarily, it looks too much like Ryloth for them to be.

“Everyone listen up! We’re part of the GAR, and we’ve come to destroy this hub and free you, so if you could stop what you’re doing and listen to me, we can work on getting these chains off!”

They act like they haven’t heard him. Mace knows this is probably pointless, but he needs to try. These people deserve their freedom.

“They won’t listen to you.” Skywalker says quietly from behind him.

“Well then what do you want me to do, Skywalker? I’m open to ideas.” He mutters back, irritated and tired.

“Let me talk to them.”

“Aren’t you terrible with people?”

“Not these ones.” Skywalker tells him. Fine then. Mace gestures for the kid to take the reins.

He does.

Skywalker steps up, makes himself as big as possible, and shouts in a language Mace has never heard before. That gets their attention, bodies twisting to look at the speaker. 

Skywalker speaks rapidly, in a harsh clicking tongue that somehow rolls too. He talks long sentences, gesturing to Mace and the Clones and then himself. He says his name, Anakin, but in that language it comes out as Ahnakeen. The people stare at him while he speaks, rapturous.

Mace has no kriffing clue what’s going on.

Finally, Skywalker finishes, twists his hands in a complicated pattern, and waits. It’s then that a Twi’lek man, tall and skinny, speaks.

“Proof?” He asks, disbelieving with eyes narrowed.

Skywalker, without hesitation, strides up to the man and rolls up his sleeve. His flesh pokes out, stark contrast against the black of his robes. He points at something on his arm, and the man’s eyes go wide, shooting words at Skywalker who fires back answers.

The man nods once, turns to a human woman across from him. She nods, grave, looks at Skywalker with an awed expression. The man addresses the line first, in that language Mace doesn’t know, and then turns to the rest of the team.

“We will go with you. You will remove our chips, provide us with papers.”

“Yes.” Skywalker answers, and before Mace can protest he begins picking the locks for the chains on the line’s ankles. 

Skywalker better not have messed up. But it seems he got the people to go with them, so Mace counts it as a reluctant win. They storm out of the building, workers trailing behind them, Skywalker still talking in that tongue, guiding them to safety.

They make it back to their base with more troops. Captain Rex of 501st only raises an eyebrow when he sees their unexpected guests, before signing and walking off to deal with some other shenanigans.

Skywalker sets up a workstation, taking spare parts on ammo and datapads, creating, until he reveals, triumphant, some sort of device. Mace has another headache at this point. 

The people line up, looking restless. Skywalker traces the machine up and down a man’s body, until a beeping noise is heard. He presses a button, and the beeping slows until it grinds to halt. The man lets out a squeal of delight, before stepping aside for the next person.

Skywalker repeats this process over and over, and by the end of it, he looks even more worn out. Mace isn’t going to let home get away without questioning, though. Especially when he sees the Medic tents about to make incisions on these people’s bodies.

“What in the name of the Force are you doing, Skywalker?” He hisses, watching as Kix wipes down a forearm with antiseptic. 

“Removing their chips, like I promised.”

“What do you mean, chips! I need some damn explanation here Skywalker, give me more than ‘removing their chips’!”

“They’re slaves. I built a deactivator and it worked, but they need to have their slave chips removed permanently.” Skywalker rubs a hand over his face, as though annoyed at how dense Mace is.

Oh. Well, Mace gets that. But that doesn’t really clarify anything else about the situation.

“And what about those papers? I’m very confused here.”

“Papers. You need more than just a lack of a chip to be considered autonomously sentient. The papers will help them settle, get them housing and jobs. You can’t just let them fend for themselves.”

“And how do you know all of this?”

“You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.” Mace feels a vein throb in his forehead.

“I was a slave too. I know how this works because I went through it.”

Okay… Mace may not have been prepared for that. He knows Skywalker was a slave, but then again, he didn’t really have the time to care about that detail with everything else going on. As far as he was concerned, when Skywalker became a Jedi he stopped being a slave.

Maybe that was a mistake.

Skywalker watches as a small Twi’lek child is shown their chip, as they cradle it in both fury and amazement.

“Skywalker, when you spoke to them. What language was that?”

“None that you’ll ever learn.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the language of my people,” Skywalker responds coldly “And it’s one thing that only my people will ever know.”

“Can I at least have a name?”

“Amatakka. Now, we have to report, and I don’t want to keep the Chancellor waiting.”

They leave to report, Mace feeling just as confused as he was 3 minutes ago.

-

For all intents and purposes, Mace Windu is an intelligent man. He joined the Council at an early age, has churned out many successful Padawans, and can whip up a battle strategy in record time. So when he finds nothing about the language of ‘Amatakka’, he’s both frustrated and humiliated.

Mace doesn’t think Skywalker was playing a trick on him. Something about creating an entire language that at least 100 other people spoke was far-fetched, even for the Knight.

Skywalker said it was the language of his people. The kid had come from Tatooine, but it wasn’t Huttese or Tusken or even Ryl. There was no unanimous race or species connecting the Outer Rim Worlds together. In history books, archives, holocrons, there was no mention of this language. It was strange, to say the least.

Mace thinks it’s a language spoken by certain environments and cultures, and if Skywalker was a slave then...

Jocasta tells him he’s being dramatic over such a trivial thing. Mace tells her it’s his quest for knowledge.

Her eyebrow raise tells him exactly what she thinks of that excuse.

Eventually, Mace’s time is taken up by Council Meetings, teaching, and dealing with the rabid Tookas of the Senate. Palpatine grows stronger every day, as the senators grow weaker. Senators Amidala, Organa, and Mothma are the only  
ones with any politically advantageous sway at this point.

Skywalker continues to be a walking bomb of chaos, to the dismay of everyone around him, and has a general disregard for rules and regulations. Mace once presides in a debrief in which Skywalker cusses 18 times in 30 seconds. Even Kit Adi Mundi looked impressed. 

But Skywalker and the 501st are churning out results, battle after battle declared victorious. The Republic has taken to calling him ‘The Hero With No Fear’, and Mace is inclined to agree with them, watching a holo recording of Skywalker plowing through a brigade of droidekas with reckless abandon.

Of course, it’s inevitable that Mace is paired with him again. After 3 blissful months of not dealing with Skywalker personally, he’s been thrown back into the Sarlacc Pit head first. The mission is simple: come to Cristophsis’s aid, because they’ve been invaded yet again.

(Seriously, how many times has Cristophsis been in some form of peril? Too many, Mace thinks.)

But, their plans are laid and they’re shipping out, so Mace can’t really complain now. And it’s a good plan, a solid one. Skywalker will engage the fleet, keeping them distracted while Mace and Padawan Ahsoka Tano rally the troops below for some form of trench warfare.

It’s simple. Why is it that the simple plans always go to shit?

They’ve been cornered by droids. They’re in a ravine near the city, perched on conveniently fallen debris from above, caught in a scuffle while trying not to cause an avalanche. The droids, who have no such qualms, are firing at will.

Tano is gritting her canines, covered in dust and blood that Mace hopes isn’t her own. She orders them to hold out; General Skywalker is coming for them, and soon. The clones, some of the bravest people Mace has ever met, push forward, suffering blaster shots and crumpling like paper under the searing hot pain.

Mace swings his saber, lungs filled with the smell of gasoline, eyes on his next opponent, never looking back. It’s because of this he doesn’t see a droid in one of Tano’s blind spots, and it’s because of this she takes a blaster shot to the side. He thinks he hears her sharp cry of pain in the background,

Mace can’t focus on that though, so he keeps swinging, keeps holding out for Skywalker, slicing droids open with their black blood having no time to spill, cauterized by the heat of his saber. Their defenses are weakening, clone after clone shot down, rocks rumbling in threat over their heads.

It’s then that Skywalker makes his grand entrance.

His eyes are cold, and his posture is perfect. Behind him, clone commanders draped in blue position their blasters to kill, aim, ready, fire. Skywalker marches through the cranage, deflecting blaster shots of him and his men, crunching droids with the Force, making steady progress, unflinching.

It’s like the Force is singing around Mace, dancing around the General as he mows through his opponents, Djem So employed pragmatically in every move. The ravine is cleared in record time, much to the amazement of troops prepared for death not minutes ago. 

When it’s over, Skywalker immediately rushes over to his Padawan’s side. Tano’s eyes are clouded with pain, and she whimpers as her Master gingerly picks her up. Skywalker begins to jog towards the ship he landed in, barking orders to get all injured to med bay, not breaking a sweat as commands and holds.

He isn’t smiling. He hasn’t this whole time.

Mace starts gathering his men left alive, closing the eyelids of those who didn’t. It’s standard practice, and Mace sorely wishes it wasn’t. They stumble back to the transport ships, tired and shell shocked. Cristophsis is safe, at least. Mace doesn’t think he could take it if they lost.

Back on Skywalker’s ship, bacta applied and the course set for Coruscant, Mace is looking forward to some rest when the Knight barges in and demands to speak with him. Mace sighs internally, cursing the Force, but beckons Skywalker in.

With all the grace of a raging bantha, Skywalker asks “Why was my padawan injured?”

“I’m not responsible for Tano, Skywalker.” Mace replies, feeling his fingers itch to punch something.

“As far as I’m concerned, you were. I wanted to manage the ground strike, but you insisted on being the one to go. You also were the one that insisted that Ahsoka accompany you.”

“I didn’t realize things would get so out of hand.”

“Out of- you call 102 casualties out of hand? And not to mention that I had to save your ass anyway, so there was no point on me not being with you.”

“We needed you to-”

“Lead the fleet? Couldn’t Ahsoka have done that?”

“I don’t know that she’d be capable of such a task.”

“So you lead her to the slaughter house?” Skywalker growls, and that’s it, Mace has had it with him.

“Seriously, Skywalker? It’s not like I have jurisdiction over every choice in a battle plan. And besides, Tano is your responsibility, so own up to it.”

“It’s because you and your Senate’s stupid war that Snips was in danger! She should be learning in a time of peace, not holding fallen comrades in her arms! Honestly, I understood the need to defend ourselves, but this has gotten out of hand! Everyone on that Council reprimands me and chides me when they get to sit there and make all the decisions from kriffing hoverchairs!”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you’re the problem?”

“I- yes, of course I have.” Skywalker deflates. “I know I’m too arrogant, and I struggle with attachment, I know that I’m not a great Jedi, but I’m fighting your stupid war, and Ahsoka shouldn’t be the one to suffer for it.”

“It’s not like you take this war seriously. You’ve always been one to joke and laugh about this matter.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

“Look… when it’s mission after mission with no end in sight, and you’re having another funeral, the third one in a month, you have to joke about it or you’ll die. Sometimes getting my Padawan to smile is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and if I have to make a dark joke to achieve it, I’m going to. Say what you will about me, but I do take this war seriously. I just have to pretend I don’t so my men and my friends can be happy.”

That’s actually… somewhat sound reasoning. Mace thinks it’s ridiculous, but at the end of the day sometimes a smile is hard to achieve. Mace may not like it, but he can respect it, maybe.

“Look, tell Tano I’m sorry she was injured and that she’s going to have a few days off. But she’s still your responsibility.”

“Fine.” And with that Skywalker swivels around and strides out of the room, off to look after his Padawan.

Mace still hates him, but he will admit that Skywalker possibly has more depth than previously thought.

Still awful, though.

-

This is not looking good. It’s one of those missions where it’s just Jedi, so of course, instead of deploying the dream team of Kenobi-Skywalker, they instead decided to send the trash heap named Windu-Skywalker. This was the first mistake made.

The second was that the information provided was at least two years out of date. When they arrived on the desolate dustball of their assigned planet, Skywalker and Mace immediately noticed that a) there were no people and b) while there were no people, there were plenty of droids.

Things, as always, only seem to go south from there. The droids of course, notice the two Jedi, and promptly try to kill them. While they manage to implode their ship, the droids can’t hit either of them, so when they can they run for it.

So, they’re stranded, coms are down, and Mace is stuck with the subject of every migraine he’s had since 40, Anakin Skywalker. Who is currently pacing the cave they’re hiding in, muttering to himself and gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Would you please sit down?” Mace asks, coming out of his half-assed meditation pose.

“No.”

“For the love of- Skywalker, we’re going to be here for a while, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get some rest without you circling the camp like a rabid animal.”

“... Fine.”

Thank the Force that worked. Mace was about to stab something if he didn’t stop.

Awkward silence surrounds their makeshift base like a particularly wet towel.

“Soooo… do we have a game plan?”

“For what, Skywalker?”

“Getting off of this planet. What were we even supposed to be doing, anyways?”

“We’re supposed to be looking for a small Seperatist settlement. From the looks of it, it’s more than small and there’s no settlers to be seen. Now all we have to do is worry about getting out of here.”

“And do we have a plan for that?”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“That’s a no, then. Great, trapped with my worst nemesis-”

“Isn’t Dooku your worst nemesis?”

“On this hellscape of a Seppie planet. Wonderful.”

“Could you please, for once in your life, take things seriously?”

“Sure, as soon as you stop being a stick in the mud.”

“It’s called being serious.”

“It’s called an unhealthy coping mechanism. I have a few myself.”

“At least I don’t get reprimanded by the Council for mine.”

“You’re on the kriffing Council!”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant. And besides, it’s not like you listen to the Council’s wishes anyways.”

“Why would I listen to a Council that doesn’t care about me besides how much good work I crank out, how many times I fail the code? I know what you all think of me, so why would I care?” Skywalker sneers, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

“We do care about you, Skywalker-”

“No, you don’t! You only care when I mess up. I get it, I can get in trouble sometimes, but this is ridiculous. You didn’t even trust me when I was kid! Your stupid Council judged me the second I stepped foot on Corusacant, and you didn’t care that I was scared, or that I’d never been off Tatooine before. You just said that I was too old and sent me on my merry way.”

There’s a lot to unpack there.

He didn’t really think they’d be as cruel as to sell him back into slavery, did they? Mace knows the Council isn’t perfect, and that they were harsh with Skywalker, but surely he believed they had his best interests in mind, didn’t he?

“I don’t think that now, obviously,” Skywalker said, sensing Mace’s frustrated confusion “But it was clear the Council was less than pleased with my performance from day one.”

“Look, that was a bad sense of judgment on our part,” Mace told him “But why not work to disprove it?”

“I was trying to!” Skywalker exclaimed “ Why do you think I was so desperate to think I was The Chosen One?”

“Was that what that was?”

“Of course it was! My entire culture was centered around pleasing Masters and being useful enough to not be left for dead! Why do you think Obi-Wan was so lax with punishments and lectures on attachment? I don’t trust you because your Council can’t even take these things into account without judging me.”

“I didn’t realize that was your point of view.” Mace speaks, processing the words slowly, several instances clicking into place at once “We did judge you without factoring those predicaments. But have you ever thought of the Council as more than a bunch of Jedi Masters out to get you?”

“... I guess not.”

“Then it seems we’ve both misunderstood each other.”

Silence ensues over their camp. Skywalker’s gears are turning, and he is thinking too. Mace has so many questions, abou Tatooine and why Skywalker does the things he does. He’s sure the Knight feels the same way about him. 

It’s odd to have perspective on things that appeared so cut and dry. Mace and Skywalker don’t get along, but it’s not like they ever attempted to. Their personalities just… grate on each other, like oil and water.

Skywalker just seemed so unaffected by it all. But then, the Amatakka and the anger over his Padawan made him seem maybe a little more understandable, and now this makes Mace doubt his snap judgments even more. 

“Look, Skywalker, the Council doesn’t hate you. We just worry about you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Skywalker grumbles. 

“Maybe, but we do. You were made a Knight and General at 19, far younger than you should’ve been. You’re in control of thousands of men, and you’re reckless but you’re good at what you do. The Council just worries how this is all affecting you, so we get on your case about it.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

Mace sits back, eyes closed, pondering. A question comes to mind, one he’s buried since Christophsis.

“Skywalker… what’s Amatakka, exactly?”

Skywalker looks surprised at the non-sequitur, but Mace wants to know. It seems like now is as good a time as any, stranded as they are with nothing to do except wait.

“It’s a language.”

“I gathered that much.” Mace adds dryly.

“It’s a secret one. Only people… people who are slaves learn it. It kept us safe, since we can’t say what we want to in front of the Masters. And then, it just kind of… became ours. We teach it to our kids, and we pass it on. No one knows it exists except those taught by a slave, or an ex-slave. That’s how those people knew I was okay, that I wouldn’t hurt them.”

“But they’re from a different world.”

Skywalker frowns, then speaks. “It sort of spread, from planet to planet. The Outer Rim is a hub of scum, so you can be born on one planet and sold to another. I’m sure the dialects are slightly different in some places, but mostly it’s like a link connecting us all.”

Oh. Mace had his suspicions, but to have them confirmed is both relieving and saddening. How much has the Republic failed, to not care about these people, for them to have to develop a language so that they can have some semblance of free speech?

Eventually the conversation tapers off, both men falling asleep against their will. It’s been a hard day.

They’re awoken to the sounds of clanking and mechanical voices right next to the cave they’ve hunkered down in. A look at Skywalker tells him that at least the man is awake, eyes roving back and forth.

They creep out slowly, following the marching droids to where the base has to be. He and Skywalker sprint through territories, taking cover while they do, Skywalker mouthing words at him while they belly crawl in grassy fields.The droids do eventually lead them to the motherload, and relief pours into the Force.

It’s a base, small for Seperatist standards, but a base all the same. What’s the selling point of the place is the ships, lined up on docks and prime for the taking. Mace is pretty sure Skywalker would be laughing maniacally if not for the fact they’d be found immediately.

Skywalker crawls over to him, whispering “I can hotwire a ship if we can get to the dock undetected.”

They scamper over to a nearby crate, watching for droids as they go. Mace decapitates one while Skywalker slices another, and taking a deep breath, they make a break for the newly unprotected ship. 

“Hey, What are you doing here?”

And suddenly they’re surrounded by droids, being blasted at from all angles. Skywalker defends him as best as he can while Mace frantically swipes at droids blocking his way, as they forge a path to their chosen ship. Mace hears Skywalker hiss as a blaster shot grazes his shoulder, but they keep moving.

Eventually they get to the mouth of the ship, racing to get it open and leave this forsaken planet. Mace hops up into the hole he’s carved, Skywalker not far behind him. Mace takes out the droids inside while the kid starts the flight procedures.

They’re just lifting off when Skywalker, manic gleam in his eye, suggests something. 

“We can blow up their base if we want to.”

“We can do that?”

“Yep.”

“... Let’s do that, then.”

They leave in a blaze of fire and explosions, making the jump to hyperspace and finally, finally relaxing. Skywalker is patching himself up with bacta, looking very put off at the idea that someone managed to land a hit on him.

“Hey, Skywalker,” Mace speaks, watching the Knight’s head jerk up “You did good out there.”

Skywalker flashes that cocky grin, tells him he wasn’t so bad himself, and promptly marches off to use the ‘fresher.

Mace is not going soft.

He isn’t.

(He is.)

-

Mace is going to die here.

“No, you’re not, I’m not letting you.” Skywalker says frantically, putting pressure on Mace’s wound “It’s just some light stabbing, not that big of a deal.”

Mace would roll his eyes at the idea of ‘light’ stabbing, but he’s too busy bleeding out to manage even an eyebrow raise.

It’s been almost six months since his last mission with Skywalker. The Clone Wars ending is in their sights, key generals for the Seperatist forces being captured or killed. It doesn’t feel like winning though, not when they’re still losing so many people every day.

He and Skywalker were tasked in securing the alliance of yet another Outer Rim territory, Mace subtly grinding his teeth and Skywalker less subtly doing the same. They’re lucky they brought the clones, because soon negotiations became a full out battle.

The people here betrayed them, but Mace can’t say he’s surprised. It had already been a shaky alliance, and it’s all too easy to fall for the supposed spoils the Separatists provide. It does put them in a bit of a situation, though, fleeing for their lives from a deadly shootout.

It had been waves upon waves of droids, and eventually even their strongest forces were overwhelmed. These droids were smarter, knew to separate the Jedi from the clones, so now Mace is trapped with Skywalker under an avalanche, living his last moments with the bane of his existence.

Who is desperately trying to staunch his bleeding abdomen, to very limited success. Mace had been in close combat with one of the more deadly droids, when another came up behind him and, like Skywalker said, ‘lightly stabbed’ him. 

They had already tried cauterizing it with a lightsaber, Force healing it, everything, but the bleeding was internal too, and nothing could seem to work long enough to do much of anything.

Mace doesn’t even feel much pain anymore. He knows it’s a bad sign, that it means he’s on the verge of passing out, and worse, dying, but he doesn’t focus on that, choosing to feel relieved at the reprieve of hurt.

He’s really, really tired. Mace deserves a nap, doesn’t he? He’s earned it, hasn’t slept well in months if not years, surely a little rest couldn’t hurt…

“No, nun uh, you don’t get to sleep Windu.” Ugh, Skywalker’s still here, slapping his face whenever he tries to close his eyes.

“Haven’t… you ever… heard of… bedside manner?” He manages, receiving a terse ‘nope’ and a scathing glare from Skywalker at the audacity to snark instead of focusing on breathing.

Which is getting kind of hard to do at this point.

“Do you… have any good… stories... Skywalker?”

Skywalker looks up at him from where he’s pressing his hands. “Um… okay, um, there’s the story of how I got my name. I know it sounds mundane, but names are important, at least where I come from.

“Once, years before I was born, my nameless ancestor was trapped in a sandstorm. Her Master was cruel, had seen the signs of the storm, and my nameless was old, so he took it upon himself to rid the world of her. There’s stories of how the Depur, or Master, took us from our deity, Ar-Amu, and it was said that the one who would free us would be a trickster in the form of a bird, Ekkreth, Sky-Walker. My nameless was trudging through the sands, attempting to find shelter, but she was old, and tired.”

Mace is trying to pay attention, but the world keeps fading in and out. Focus, Windu, focus on Skywalker.

“My nameless started to weep, kneeling in the burning sand, screaming out to anyone who would listen that it wasn’t fair. She was just about to give in to the winds when she saw it. It was a bird, and it seemed unaffected by the storm, and it was looking at her. 

“She knew she had to follow it, knew it was Ekkreth, so she marched on even though she was tired, and thirsty, and starved. The bird led her to a small desert cove where she could rest from the sand, and stayed with her until the storm passed. When it did, the bird flew away, disappearing into the twin suns.

“Her Master thought her to be dead, so she settled in Mos Espa, and named herself Skywalker, after the bird who saved and freed her. One day, she was in the market when the old Master passed by her, and recognized her. He screamed, pulling her arms to him and reclaiming what he thought was his. She struggled, but she was the one with the chip in her neck, and he was the one with the detonator.

“My nameless made a vow that day, though, that one day her lineage would live in peace, finally free. So no matter how much she was beaten or bullied for it, she kept her name. She was Skywalker, and so were her children and their children and eventually me, who was freed just as she promised”

Skywalker looks sad, and Mace feels sad too. It’s a sad story, after all. But somehow, it gave him hope. Something about the melody, the way Skywalker repeated it, reverent, almost as if reading aloud from a book.

Mace is still really tired, though. His breathing is getting shallower by the minute, and his head is stuffed full of cotton. Skywalker looks on the verge of tears, which is odd for someone who hates him.

“Skywalker… suits… you.” Mace says, just to cut some of the tension.

“Yeah, I think it does too.” Skywalker says quietly, finally seeming to come to terms with what he knows is about to happen.

It’s then that their rock prison starts to shift rapidly. Voices can be heard from above, desperate, angry, and Skywalker seems to catch on, holding up his hand to prevent any debris from crushing them. A sliver of light pokes through the darkness, Captain Rex’s face barely visible.

Mace breathes out. They’re saved, he’s not going to die, maybe. The adrenaline crash is the only excuse he has for passing out, that and the pain of his wound finally doing him in. Everything goes black, despite his best attempts to keep his eyes open.

When he wakes, it’s to a tutting Healer Che, and an ache in his abdomen, though not nearly as bad as before. Mace survived, then, and is now back at the Temple. That’s good.

It takes a week for him to even step foot out of the Halls of Healing, Healer Che siccing her apprentices on him every chance she gets. It’s another week before Mace is cleared for Council meetings. When he protested that all Council meetings were was sitting and listening, Che slapped him upside the head like an errant youngling.

He may have deserved it.

And it’s a full month before Mace sees Skywalker again. They pass each other in the halls, Mace nodding to him, Skywalker nodding back. Just as the Knight rounds the corner, Mace calls out,

“Skywalker!”

He turns, looking like a scared tooka.

“Thanks for the story.” Mace tells him, then proceeds to walk away. Best not be caught emoting with his sworn enemy.

-

Sometimes the Force has a cruel sense of humor. 

The Clone Wars draw to a close. Dooku is killed in the rescue of Chancellor Palpatine, Kenobi is sent after Grievous, and all seems to point towards a decisive Republic victory.

That is, until Skywalker bursts into the Council Chambers, panting, and tells him that the Chancellor they just rescued is actually Darth Sidious. They’d had their suspicions, especially when Palpatine had Skywalker placed on the Council, but this sure does kriffing confirm it.

Mace hadn’t liked Palpatine from the start, none of them really had, but this is a different level of evil. He’s not some conniving bureaucrat, he’s a fucking Sith Lord, Darth Sidious for that matter.

They go to arrest Palp- Sidious, Tiin, Kolar, Fisto, Skywalker and him. They stride into his office, apropos of nothing, and holy shit, does Palpatine know how to use a lightsaber.

3 Masters are down in less than four minutes, Sidious massacring them with such gleeful efficiency that Mace thinks he hears his bones quake, engaging the Sith with barely steady hands. He drives Sidious back, but his energy is wanin, and Sidious just keeps shooting the damned lightning.

That’s when Mace remembers Skywalker is here. The kid is shaking, eyes flicking between them, deathly pale and sweating buckets, looking terribly conflicted- oh shit. Sidious starts to cackle, spew filth about how the Jedi are evil, corrupted, everything Skywalker hates.

It’s horrible to see Skywalker look so close to believing him.

“Skywalker!” Mace shouts, desperate “Don’t listen to him, he has to be killed, he’s Sidious!”

Skywalker trembles, says “It isn’t the Jedi way, Windu, we can’t just kill him.”

And then he says the most terrifying thing Mace has ever heard:

“I need him.”

Oh kriff, this isn’t good.

“That’s right Anakin, they’ll kill me and you’ll have no one, Padme will die, you’ll be alone forever!” Sidious pushes him back with more damned lightning, and Mace needs to end this, now.

“Skywalker, please, he’s the mastermind of all of this!”

“I NEED HIM, CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?” Skywalker bellows.

“No you don’t, he’s manipulating you, why would he do anything other than lie to you?”

“I NEED HIM TO KEEP PADME ALIVE, SHE’LL DIE, I NEED TO-“

“We’ll help Senator Amidala, Skywalker, now please help. We can’t help her if you don’t kill Sidious.”

“You promise you’ll help her?” Skywalker begs, tears streaming down his face.

“I promise.”

In another world, where Mace hadn’t been paired with Skywalker as often as he was in this world, in a world where Skywalker believed the Council really did hate him, and in a world where Mace had been too quick to judge, Anakin Skywalker Fell.

This is not that world.

Instead, Skywalker gathers his strength, ignites his lightsaber, heading directly for Sidious. Almost methodically, ignoring the Sith’s pleas, he cleanly chops off his arms, and then slits his throat.

Skywalker then crumples to the ground, sobbing hysterically.

Mace knows there are things that need to be addressed, knows that this is somehow the Council’s fault, for letting Sidious prey on Skywalker for so long with pretty much free rein, but for now, he kneels next to Skywalker.

“I think,” Mace starts, considering his words “It’d be best if I sent medical droids to Senator Amidala, and get Kenobi here right now.”

Skywalker sniffles, nods, and continues to whimper.

Mace coms Kenobi, still in shock of what’s gone down. Grievous is gone, Obi-Wan made sure of that, so Mace has no qualms telling the Master to get his ass down to Coruscant immediately. Kenobi seems to hear the sobs in the background, but doesn’t question, just tells him his ETA.

Eventually the two stumble down to the Senate Chambers, where Mace pretends not to see Skywalker passionately make out with a very pregnant Padme Amidala. She goes into labor that night, a full eight hours of wailing and Skywalker gripping her hand tight.

Kenobi arrives during the labor, seeming unphased about it all, explaining that Skywalker had spilled the beans a while ago. He’s a little more shocked when he hears about the evening events, and Mace sees the Master’s face go stony at the mention of Palpatine’s grooming.

At 4:36 am, Coruscant Standard Time, Luke and Leia Skywalker-Naberrie are born. Mace isn’t here for this, too busy getting a well deserved nap induced by sleeping pills. 

In this world, Anakin Skywalker is there for his children’s birth. In this world, he holds them in his arms and promises to always protect them no matter what.

Eventually, news breaks about Palpatine, and things, as they always seem to do, get more complicated. Mace finds that this time around, he doesn’t mind as much.

Eventually, the Council is informed of Skywalker’s many attachments. They find that this time around, they’re willing to let it slide.

Skywalker retires anyway.

In this world, Order 66 is never carried out. In this world, the Clone Wars come to an end and the Jedi start to revisit the code, start considering some slight revisions. In this world, clones are granted citizenship, have the chips taken out of their heads, and are free.

In this Luke and Leia are raised together on Naboo, Anakin Skywalker is a stay at home dad who organizes slave revolts in his part time, and teaches his kids the ways of the Force. Padme kicks ass in the Senate, becoming Vice-Chancellor, never bending her wills or ideals to anyone, and eventually, so does her daughter.

In this world, Mace Windu becomes reluctant friends with Anakin Skywalker, and it changes everything.

**Author's Note:**

> So... that happened. Hoped it didn’t seem too ooc!


End file.
